


When The Storm Ends

by ShipperPrinces



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, Forgive me for I have sinned, Human & Country Names Used, Long live Arthur's eyebrows, M/M, They love each other, USUK - Freeform, Why is this so cheesy, my first fic ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipperPrinces/pseuds/ShipperPrinces
Summary: It's not uncommon in their relationship. It is, acctually, very, very common. It doesn't mean it's less painfull, and it certanly doesn't help the teary eyes and trembling hands. But at the same time, when it ends, it's oh so very sweet and heart-bursting.  Because when the rain stops falling, the sun is still there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first fanfic ever and of course it's USUK. My mother tongue isn't english so I'm sorry if there's any grammar mistakes or anything like that. I appreciate any feedback you've got to give or any language corrections. Hope you enjoy it! <3\. (Try not to puke sugar rainbows while reading it, oh boy it's so cheesy)

Arthur couldn't quite remember what the fight had been about. It didn't really matter anymore, something stupid probably. But it had been bad. Really, really bad.  
They had screamed. A lot. The worst things you could imagine. But the trigger was set when Arthur had said, calm and distant, cold and venemous, with the same eyes of a man that had once ruled the world: 

"At the end, you're nothing but a playing-to-be colony. Do you really think this is love? This is just you not knowing how to take care of yourself but being too proud and childish to admit you need me. You are just confusing your need of guidance and protection for romantic love."

The satisfaction had been non existent, there was no grand feeling at the cruel retort. Arthur didn't think any of the thing he'd said, of course he didn't, but he sure did know where to stab, the weakest spot, where the flesh is tender and the heart is fragile, so that is where he aimed. Of course he knew America's insecurities, all of them, so that's why he knew his lover would never really get over about the I'm-Now-Independent thing. They had fought over it before, but England had never said something so painfull, so hostile and mean. 

Arthur saw the exact moment the word hit Alfred, He flinched, as if someone had thrown iced water at him, but then stood incredibly still. His eyes, always clear sky blue, were now clouded and numb, watching The Brit not whit the anger the shorter male was expecting but with a strange look, maybe just ... disappointment? He didn't look as nerly affected as Arthur did himself. 

England wanted to take it back, so so much. He wanted to say he was sorry and that those weren't his true feelings, how could they be? He was jealous of the strength America had gained alone and still felt betrayed sometimes, but above all, he was just so proud nad happy for him, and if he were to be honest (not that he would be) just madly in love. He wanted to run to Alfred and hold him in his arms as he was held in returnt. But he did not. He stood silently, his gaze never leaving the other man's. And then Alfred spoke, eyes still dead:

"You're wrong. I'm not with you because I have "Colony Issues". I'm here, right now, because I love you. But if you think that we're just wasting each other's time then it's better for this to end. I love you, yes, but I don't want your pitty nor your guidance, that I have for myself."

To see America, the sunshine boy, the always good mood and optimistic Alfred, the same that would make him laugh until tears were streaming from his eyes with that serious expresion and detached voice made Arthur shiver. It felt...cold. Cold like the rain the day America had defeated him, annihilated him to the ground, abandoned him for good.

Alfred turned to the entrance and Arthut followed him, scared of what he had done. Was Alfred talking seriously? Were they really going to break up? This was it, the end, all over again? It couldn't be. Arthur could feel his heart starting to rip apart, giving it's way to deseperation. The taller blonde was facing the door, with one hand in the doorknob. He opened it and before leaving he turned back to Enlgand and said, distant and heartless:

"The funny thing is: I'm not the only one who hasn't gotten over the colony thing. It's you who can't stop reminding me about it. It's you who'll never move on from the fact that I wanted to leave you to be able to grow for myself. And it's you, Arthur, the one that will never, ever be able to forget or forgive me for being better than you. For replacing you as a World Power. You're just bitter all the time about the past you'll never get back and about the glorious golden days when you ruled the seas and conquered new lands. Just accept the fact that you're finished, your era is over and you need to step aside". 

And then Alfred left.

Arthur allowed himslef to break apart.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month had passed since the fight (or should he really call it "the break up"?) and Alfred hadn't seen or heard about England since then. He missed him. So much. He wondered if Arthur missed him too, even if just a little or if he even had thought about him or what had happened. His childish heart bellived, hoped, but Alfred forced it to stay calm. Afrter the way they had parted he wouldn't be surprised if Arthur never looked him or talked to him again. 

Did Arthur really think what he'd said? That their relationship was some kind of replacement of their previous Metropoly - Colony thing ? When England was his... his protector? With a platonic relationship of older brother?  
The mere thought of it disgusted the American, repeled him, made him feel sick. But even so, even if Arthur had meant all what he had said (although Alfred prayed so that wouldn't be the case, it would absolutely shatter his heart) Alfred regreted the way he had treated his lover, because when he'd said he loved the Brit he meant it, he did, more than anything. And he cursed himself for the words he had cowardly spat before leaving. Of course anything of what he had said was true in his own eyes, and he wasn't proud of it, but Alfred, all smiles and fries, did know how to bend and break someone if he intended to. Not that he wanted to do that to his Artie, but for a moment his rage had taken the best of him.  
Now, with his tail in between his legs and a peace offering scone he awkwardly stood in Arthur's porch unable to knock the door.  
He wanted to see England, to take everything back and apologize, but he wasn't sure everything could go back to how it used to be. 

So, as the damn good Hero he was he took a deep breath and knocked the door, his palms sweaty.

He waited with his heart in his sleeve. 

When Arthur opened the door everything felt still. Both of them looked at each other with longing gazes, even if their priedes wouldn't let tham take the first step, or say the firts word.

England slowly moved aside to let Alfred in. America entered and they walked in awkward tension to the little tea room where Alfred saw a open book and a blanket in Arthur's favorite couch accompanied by a steaming cup of tea. He turned around slow, hesitant and worhtlessly offered the brown paper bag. With a quirked brow and suspicious lips Arthur took it. When he saw it's content he couldn't help but huff and say, voice not quite angry but still too harsh to Alfred's taste: " A scone. Because I can't cook?"

And there, in the middle of the little, cosy and old tea room, standing close but not enough, with lazy sun rays making their way in trough the half open curtains, surrounded by book he never has read and didn't inteded to but knew to heart after so much time of spending time there snuggling with Artie while he read, all America could answer was :"Yes".

Of course, he wasn't saying yes to England's question, but to England itslef. To the man standind anxiously in front of him. To his flaws, his pride, bad temper, rough words, mocking, teasing, low self esteem, emotional break downs, anger managment issues and weirdness. Yes to his gorgeous laughter, to the lazy mornings spent in bed, the shared kisses in the dark, knowing gazes in the light, to the sound of his voice when he lulled him with poetry to sleep, the love in his eyes when he looked at him, to the gold sun in his hair when they had picnic dates outside when the weather accompanied them, and yes to his lithe body pressed against his in the warmth of the bed with the pouring rain outside.

Yes to the fights and the hate and rage and sadness. Yes to the reconciliation, the mended hearts, the tender touch of lips to heal the cutting words that came throught them. 

So as Artie's eyes filled with tears and his cheeks turned red, and Alfred's chest bubbled with relieved laughter, all they could do was to stumble into each other's embrace. 

To any outsider, the encounter would've made no sense whatsoever, but as Arthur choked out thought the tears a: "I'll poison your food next time" and Alfred answered: "I thought you already did?" they understood. Oh, they understood.

**Author's Note:**

> Guys! I changed it a bit because I felt it seemed a little bit rushed. Again, hope you like it :)


End file.
